


Flat Tires & Subtle Hugs

by XAnima_Bellax



Series: Flat Tires Series [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison and Scott aren't together, Allison and Stiles are friends, Confused Stiles, M/M, No Boyd, No Erica, No Isaac, Pack Bonding, Random Hugging, Scott is a Good Friend, Scott moves away, Slash, Stiles doesn't think he's pack, au after season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XAnima_Bellax/pseuds/XAnima_Bellax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Scott and his mom moves away, Stiles stops hanging with the pack. He'd rather be on his own than hang around a pack that isn't his. Everything is fine, except his tires keep ending up flat and random people seem to be hugging him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to Livejournal as a fill to a prompt.

So Scott was moving. His best friend, most times his only friend, was moving. And not that annoying type of moving where you move a few blocks over. No, he was moving to Florida. He wasn't even going to be within driving distance. Well he was, but the jeep wouldn't make it across country. In retrospect, he should have seen it coming; Melissa had been dating David exclusively. Melissa McCall had finally moved on with her life, and with a doctor. Stiles was happy for her, really he was. But did she have to move in with the guy? After all, they'd only known each other for a little over a year. Was it normal to pack up and move your son a billion, zillion miles away from his best friend after dating for a year...or three? Stiles didn't think it was. Nevertheless, here Stiles was, watching his best friend pack up the last of his Star Wars action figures.

Stiles sat on the bed and wallowed in his pity. Scott was packing entirely too fast, and he kinda wanted to dump everything back out so the older boy would have to start over. He bit is bottom lip as the last action figure was safely packed away.

"Well that's it," Scott replied, closing his suitcase with a thud. The thud of doom, Stiles thought.

"Are you sure you don't wanna just move in with me and my dad?" Stiles asked.

"And help you eat your dad out of house and home?" Scott asked jokingly.

"I don't eat that much!"Stiles exclaimed. "Okay maybe I do, but I'd totally tone it down if it meant keeping you here," he added after Scott shot him an I'm-a-werewolf-and-can-totally-tell-when-you're-lying glare.

"But I want to go Stiles. My mom is finally moving on. I owe it to her to make this sacrifice. Besides it's a good opportunity for me to..." Scott trailed off, but Stiles still heard the words. For me to get over Allison.

"I just don't want to lose you. You and my dad are all I have."

"That's not true," Scott started, putting an arm around the shorter boy's shoulders. "You have the pack."

"Pffft!" Stiles snorted, his arm jerking up wildly. Scott ducked just in time to miss the limb. "Once you're gone, they'll have no need for me. Lydia will go back to her "Bitchier-Than-Thou" attitude. And Jackson will be all "I'm top bitch!" And Derek will growl and mope and revert to "I'm the bitchiest there is. Bow down and worship you're queen." And it will be the three bitch troops and one lonely Stiles without a best friend!"

"Dude, did you just call Derek a queen?" Scott asked.

"You're totally missing the point!" Stiles shouted.

"You're over-exaggerating," Scott reassured,picking his last suitcase. Stiles grabbed the box of pictures off his bed and followed Scott out to the moving truck.

"Easy for you to say! You have your bitchy werewolf pass. I'm only admitted in by default."

Scott raised an eyebrow. " You can have my pass if you want it," he offered.

"Dude, you can't get a pass without being a werewolf. It's written in the rules."

"What rules?" Scott asked, confused. If there was a rule book on being a werewolf, he'd been cheated 'cause he didn't get his copy.

"The "How to be a Bitchy Werewolf Guide for Bitchy People Who've been bitten by a Werewolf" rule book," Stiles answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"The what for what?" Scott asked.

"You suck at this!" Stiles groaned.

 

*

After the last box was stored away, Stiles stepped back and watched as Scott shuffled around nervously.

"I can't believe you and your mom are driving all the way to Orlando in a U-Haul."

"She thinks it's good bonding time. I plan to tell her about the whole wolf thing on the way. Less chance she'll run away from me." Scott smirked.

"Greater chance she'll crash," Stiles pointed out.

"Yeah so if, you hear about a fiery crash involving a U-Haul, call me."

"She's gonna be a little freaked out, but she loves you."

"I know," Scott said. "I'm gonna miss you so much man."

"I'm gonna miss you too, but you know, in a platonic and hetero-lifemate kind of way. although, we still have the internet," Stiles offered.

"And all types of breaks from school," Scott added. Melissa blew the horn and Scott moved towards the passenger side door.

"Promise you won't get a new best friend and forget about me?" Stiles asked, swallowing thickly.

"I could never replace you. Promise to stay in touch with the pack?" Scott asked, voice filled with emotion.

"I promise. Now enough of this girly goodbye stuff," Stiles said, wiping his face.

Scott smiled and got in the truck. Stiles watched pathetically as he watched the moving van disappear out of sight. With it went half his heart.

 

*

A week passed before he could even pull himself out of bed in order to do anything other than shower. Allison had dropped by occasionally. For all her crazy family members, she wasn't so bad, and Stiles regretted that he hadn't tried to get to know her when she and Scott were together. They talked mostly about Scott. About how she felt so betrayed after the whole Kate, alpha thing, about how she let that fuel her attitude towards Scott until it was too late. About how she wished desperately she could turn back time and cherish every single moment she'd spent with him.

His dad was as understanding about the situation as possible, and Stiles gave him credit for letting him help with a missing persons case. Unfortunately that didn't eat up too much time. The girl ended up calling from two towns over, telling her parents she'd gotten married. Without psychotic hunters and deranged werewolves, Beacon Hills was returned its naturally boring self. Stiles found no excitement in helping his dad with the drunk guy that kept wondering into traffic. By Wednesday he'd returned to his safe haven on covers and pillows.

By Saturday Stiles had run out of Adderall. He'd pulled himself together long enough to get dressed and grab his car keys. He walked out the front door and went to get in his jeep when something caught his eye. His tire was flat. It was the weirdest thing ever because he'd just replaced the tires. He groaned in frustration.

"You need help?" Stiles turned towards the voice and groaned when he spotted the Porsche. He contemplated running, but the tingling in his legs told him that he need that Adderall.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked as he slid in the sleek car.

"I was passing by on my way home." Jackson answered easily, slinging an arm over Stiles shoulder. If he didn't know any better, Stiles would swear that it was a hug.

Stiles didn't point out that Jackson lived in the opposite direction.


	2. Lydia and the Mafia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia may be part of the mafia...or Stiles is just over exaggerating again.

The hand that slapped down on the wood of his study table should have scared the pee out of him. But strangely enough his life had become a series of disrupted study sessions and wall slams. It was the face that said hand belonged to that had him squirming. Lydia had always had one intense glare that made all the air in the room leave suddenly. This was now amplified by the fact that she was a werewolf that could break him in two. He gulped as she leaned in closer to him.

"Have you avoiding me?" She asked nicely. Here tone was all sugar and honey and it made Stiles uncomfortable.

"Avoiding you? Pshh, of course not," He squeaked out. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I'd never do that."

"Are you sure? Because I don't like it when people avoid me. It makes me angry and no one is happy when I'm angry."

"Oh my god that sounds like a really bad line from a mafia movie. Do you watch those? I always figured you'd be more of a romantic comedy kind of girl. But that would mean that you would have to have a sense of humor and I'm pretty sure you need a soul to have one of those. Not that you don't have a soul! Because I'm sure that you have this totally awesome soul that's hidden in there really deep-" Stiles stopped at the growl. "Oh god, don't eat me!"

"I don't eat fatty foods. You are dodging the question. Are you avoiding me?" Lydia asked, brows drawn closed in a frown.

"I'm not avoiding you per se," Stiles answered truthfully. He wasn't avoiding Lydia individually. He was avoiding the pack as a whole. Not that it was working very well apparently.

"Good," Lydia replied before leaving. Stiles watched her go with a frown.

What the hell was that?

 

*

 

Stiles groaned in frustration as he struggled to fold the shirt exactly like Amanda, his boss had shown him. So far his new job sucked, but he needed it to pay for the tires he kept having to replace. Granted the first three sets had been his fault. Riding three times over the speed limit through the woods while wolves chased you could have that affect. But this last time, for the life of him he couldn't figure out why all four of his tires had been flattened. He summed it up to being a werewolf's doing, but the only person he'd seen that day had been Jackson. Logically, he supposed that it could happen. Jackson could have slashed his tires just for the hell of it. But Jackson had offered him a ride, and Stiles couldn't picture Jackson Whittemore, president of the **_'Make Stiles' Life Hell Club'_** ever going through all that trouble. Not to mention that such an elaborate plan would mean that Jackson was more than just good looks and teen angst. Stiles doubted he was. "Are you even paying attention to me?" Stiles was brought back to his current situation. Amanda was standing in front of him, her normal frown resting on her face. He smiled at her pleasantly.

"Can you repeat that?" Stiles asked.

"Are you stupid? How exactly do you plan on keeping this job?" she spat rudely.

"My charming personality and stunning good looks?" Stiles offered.

"You're not charming and you have the sex appeal of raw hotdogs. Get these shirts done and then go home."

"Wait," Stiles interrupted. "You're sending me home already. I just got here."

"You'll do more help far away from me than staying here."

"But I get paid to help you," Stiles replied. "I'll pay you double to leave." Stiles stared at her in shock, sure that this was a joke. Her face said otherwise. He folded the last few shirts, shifting nervously under Amanda's strong gaze. "Done. Are you sure you don't need me to stay the full shift?"

"If you're here within the next five minutes, I'm going to fire you! Lydia be damned!"

"Whoa, wait, what? You see what I did there with the alliteration? Lydia? What does Lydia have to do with anything? We are talking about Lydia Martin right? Of course we are. There's only one Lydia that has enough power to get me a job here."

"Leave now. Don't clock out, don't argue. Just leave."

 

*

 

Stiles dragged his feet towards the parking lot. He'd told his dad that he wasn't getting off until 11. It was only 4 and his dad was patrolling. That left 7 hours to kill in a parking lot. Well this sucked. He missed his baby. He sat on the curb and pulled his phone out. He sent a text to Scott, then Alison when he realized that the time. Scott would be at soccer practice.

**S: Wyd?**

**A:Training w/ dad. New huntn techniques. U?**

**S: Stranded @ work**

**A: Speakn of work, rn't u suppose 2 b workn?**

**S: Amanda's payn dbl 2 go home  
**

**A: Ouch. She not a fan of urs?**

**S: It's safe 2 say so. So I have nterestn news**

**A: Ahh do share. But make it quik. Dad's gettn bitchy**

**S: 1 LYDIA MARTIN may b responsible 4 my new ncum.**

**A: Iol dont spell it c u m. Y do u think so?**

**S: OMG SHE JUST PULLED UP!**

**A: Who? Lydia? S: G2G. TTYL**

**A: I'll b @ ur place @ 8.**

**S: Bring pizza.**

"Are you going to keep texting as if I'm not here?" Lydia demanded. Stiles immediately tucked his phone in his pocket. "Are you getting in or are you going to stand there all day?" He stood awestruck for a second before sliding in. Lydia wasted no time pulling off.

"Is something going on?" Stiles asked, shifting nervously. Lydia raised a perfect eyebrow and he continued. "It's just that you've talked to me like twice in the last three days. That's got to be a record. And you're giving me a ride."

"Would you rather walk?" Lydia asked angrily.

"NO! No, I appreciate the ride. It's just…weird. I don't know how to take it." Lydia hummed in response, then cranked the volume up on the radio.

 

*

 

The ride to his house had been an awkward one. Stiles had tried to start as many conversations as possible, but Lydia dodged all of them skillfully. He nearly jumped out of the car before it came to a complete stop, but Lydia held him back.

"Whoa, did you just go werewolf, super strength on me?" Stiles asked, trying to slow his heart.

"I give you a ride and I don't even get a thank you?" Lydia complained, running her fingers over Stile's scalp. Her sharp nails rasped against his scalp in a way that might have been comforting had she not been in full wicked mode.

"Um, thank you?" Stiles asked nervously. This was now beyond weird and he wasn't sure what to do. He jumped in shock when Lydia laughed.

"Well once more with feeling Stiles." Lydia giggled, wrapping her arms around Stiles' neck. She let go shortly after.

"Did you just laugh at me? Did you just call me by my name? Did you just hug me?" Stiles fired off. Lydia's response was to smile creepily and push him out the opened car door. He fell with a thud and before he could blink she'd reached across the console, closed the door, and sped off. Stiles sat in the dirt dumbfounded.

"Well fuck my life," Stiles muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review and don't sugar coat


	3. Not A Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison and Stiles' meeting turns into a wolfy gathering.

"So this theory that you have?" Allison asked, making herself comfortable on Stiles' bed. Stiles sat down in the chair at his computer desk. He grabbed another slice of pizza and devoured it. Allison watched in awe as it disappeared in less than a minute. "Your appetite never ceases to amaze me." Stiles smiled at her, blush painted on his cheeks.

"Right, so as we both know, my tires were slashed by a mysterious werewolf. How many werewolves do we know?" he asked, spinning around to face Allison completely.

"Four, including Scott."

"Right. Except Scott doesn't count in this scenario. He's on the other side of the country. That leaves three possible tire slashing bandits. First would be?"

"Derek?" Allison asked uncertainty in her voice.

"Pack alpha and resident bad ass? Check! But what would his motive be?" Stiles quizzed.

"He doesn't really seem to want you around. Not that you would care about that if you wanted to see him. Slashing your tires would keep you away from him."

"Okay….A little harsh with the bluntness," Allison giggled at the hurt expression on Stiles' face. He smiled at her and threw his balled up napkin at her. "But true nevertheless. But it wouldn't make sense for him to slash my tires to keep me away from him if he's just gonna let Jackson and Lydia hang around and give me rides."

"So then Lydia?" Allison suggested.

"Motive?"

"Um…I'm not getting anything," Allison replied after thinking a while.

"Exactly! She just doesn't have enough of a reason. Besides, she wouldn't want to mess up her manicure. Which leaves…?" Stiles trailed off.

"Jackson!" Allison blurted, sitting up in the bed.

"Bingo!"

"You really think Jackson did it?" Allison asked, slowly.

"Yeah. I mean, he clearly doesn't like me and would do anything to make my life hell."

"But you said that he gave you a ride afterwards," she reminded him.

"Sure, but that was the cover up. If he offered me a ride then surely I wouldn't suspect him of vandalizing my baby."

"So you're saying that Jackson slashed your tires. Then to cover his tracks, conveniently drove by to give you a ride so you wouldn't suspect him."

"Ding, ding, we have a winner!"

"I don't know Stiles. Doesn't that seem a bit…complex for Jackson?" Allison asked, chewing her thumbnail. "And wouldn't he want you to know that he caused your pain and suffering?"

"Not if Derek warned him against it."

"But why-?"

"Allison don't question it!" Stiles cut in. She giggled at him again.

"Okay, okay. So Jackson did it," Allison reiterated. "But what about Lydia?"

"I'm getting to that. Okay so Lydia, obviously, knew about the harsh prank and felt bad about it. So she tried to talk to me about it in the library but lost her nerve."

"You don't honestly think that Lydia would lose her nerve do you?" Allison asked, eyebrow raised

"Deep, deep under all that animosity and attitude and deep, deep, deep down past the bitchiness, is a regular, insecure girl."

"Right…. So she lost her nerve?"

"And so she tried to make it up to me by getting me a job. But then she realized that she gave me a job with the only woman in the world who can withstand my awesomeness. So she gave me a ride," Stiles informed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And the hugging?"

"I'm still trying to work that out."

"Right," Allison replied. She swung her legs over the bed and stood up to stretch. Stiles watched her carefully as she rambled through his drawers until she found a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. She held the t-shirt up and raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's Derek's. He left a few shirts and underwear here from before. I keep forgetting to give them to him. No seriously, I totally didn't keep them because they're comfortable and still smell like him or because they're super big on me."

Allison rolled her eyes and stripped out of her shirt. Stiles chewed his lower lip and looked away as she finished changing. "So your dad is cool with you spending the night here?"

"Yeah. He told me to tell you hello, by the way."

"Why is he so chill with this? His teenage daughter hanging out with a teenage boy? One who dances with wolves in fact?"

"You're not a werewolf though." Allison replied. She dropped her pants and picked up the basketball shorts. "Besides, he knows you're gay."

"What? _What_? Why would he think that?" Stiles looked up at Allison, but quickly snatched his head down. "Whoa, the shorts! Put on the shorts!"

"Well the fact that you won't even look at me while I'm standing in your room half naked might have something to do with that." Allison pulled the shorts on and sat down next to Stiles. "It's not a big deal."

"How do you explain me loving Lydia? She's a girl. She's like the girlest girly girl of all girls and I love her." Stiles folded his arms over his chest and turned his nose up. Allison smiled slyly before answering him.

" _Loved_ her, and you used to have fantasies about her pegging you. Scott told me." Allison watched Stiles' head snatch around as he gawked at her. She was almost sure that he pulled something in his neck or at least had whip lash.

"Scott told you I was gay?" he choked out. My best friend pushed me out the closet"

"He didn't mean to. I don't even think he realized he'd said it. If it makes you feel any better, he promised some serious pain if anyone found out before you were ready."

"I seriously doubt that," Stiles huffed. He crossed his arms and pouted.

"You underestimate how much Scott values your friendship. I used to be so jealous," Allison admitted. She gathered her hair and pulled it up and out of her face.

"Funny. I used to be insanely jealous of you."

"Me?" Allison asked shock evident on her face. "Why?"

"Because since kindergarten it's always been Scott and me. There was a point where our moms literally gave us a blood test to make sure we hadn't been separated at birth. Then all of a sudden the only time I ever saw him was when he was trying to use me as a chew toy or when he needed me to cover for him or save his ass. And even then all he talked about was you. I got so sick of hearing the name Allison. I used to cringe when I saw you. I felt like you replaced me completely."

It was so quiet at first that Stiles was sure that he imagined it. But it slowly got stronger and louder. Stiles' mouth dropped open and he was, for the first time in a long time, completely lost for words. Allison, sweet, gentle, friendly Allison, was laughing at him. He'd just spilled all his insecurities about his and Scott's friendship. Stiles isn't sure what it is, but he's laughing too. When they're finally able to breathe again, Stiles elbows her in her ribs. "Thanks for laughing at my feelings."

"I'm sorry! It's just, well, Scott talked about you so much when we were together that I thought he was gay too. I never realized that he did you the same way." Allison laid her head on Stiles' shoulder and sighed. "I miss him."

"Do you ever regret anything?" Stiles asks after a while.

"I use to. I regretted so much. But I wouldn't change anything. Besides, if you love something let it go."

"What," Stiles said, swallowing, "if he doesn't ever come back."

"I don't think of it that way. What Scott and I had was good. But I screwed up. I don't think he'll ever come back, not to me anyway. But it's okay because you live and you learn. Scott taught me a lot about myself and my family. I'll always treasure him for that."

Stiles opened his mouth to comment when he heard the knock. He frowned at Allison, frown deepening when she shrugged. He ran down the stairs, Allison hot on his heels. He peeked out the window and almost screamed when Derek Hale's face stared back at him.

"Holy shit! It's Derek!" Stiles hissed.

"Not just him, he has company," Allison pointed out.

"What do you think he wants?" Stiles asked. He was freaking out. What if they'd come to finish him and his baby off?

"You're freaking out for no reason."

"Easy for you to say! You can defend yourself from angry werewolves."

"Stiles!" Allison hissed.

"Fine, fine!" Stiles stood back, took a deep breath and threw the door open. Derek immediately barged in, shouldering past both him and Allison without a word. The pack plus two followed behind him. "Oh sure, come right in. No need for an invitation."

"Hi," Allison let out shyly when Derek turned to stare her down.

"NO! Bad dog! No scaring my company," Stiles fussed, slapping Derek on the nose gently. Derek turned his glare to Stiles then. Stiles gulped before continuing. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We heard you were having a party," Jackson butted in when Derek just continued to stare.

"It's not a party, it's an intimate get-together," Stiles corrected. "How did you hear that?"

"I may or may not have snuck a look at your text messages when you were busy freaking in my car. This party blows," Lydia said casually.

"Don't call it that. It's just a get-together."

"That's incredibly gay," Jackson responded.

"You're incredibly stupid!" Stiles defended. He turned back to Derek, only to notice that he and Lydia were trailing up the steps. "Hey what are you doing? And who the hell is that?"

"Come up stairs," Derek replied, "And we'll explain everything."

*"So Danny's a wolf now?" Stiles asked. "And so is he," He pointed to the other mystery guy, Mark, Danny's boyfriend. "Because Jackson _accidently_ bit Danny and Danny _accidently_ bit Mark?"

"For the tenth time, yes," Lydia droned, lying across the foot of his bed. Her head rested comfortably on Allison's lap, as Allison ran her fingers through her hair.

"Is that my shirt?" Derek asked suddenly, staring at Allison.

"I may or may not have given it to her," Stiles answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"How did you get it?" Lydia asked, sitting up.

"He may have left it here when he was staying with me."

"And you didn't think he'd want it back?" Jackson asked, knowing smirk in place. Smug bastard.

"I don't know! Returning an old t-shirt wasn't high on my list of priorities. I was kinda busy tracking down a killer werewolf and trying not to get eaten or molested!" Stiles shouted.

"Molested? Stiles was molested? You guys did leave some info out," Danny responded, taking a sudden interest in the conversation.

"I wouldn't say molested. Maybe propositioned by Chester the Molester aka Creep Show aka Peter Hale."

"He came on to you?" Derek asked, suddenly in Stiles' space.

"He offered to bite me. What are you doing? Oh my god you're sniffing me." Stiles should have been used to the weird factor, but he had been out of commission for a while. So instead, he focused on not popping a boner.

" _You_ turned down the bite?" Jackson asked incredulously.

"Well don't sound so surprised! I was too busy being badass and saving Lydia and subsequently the day to lie writhing in the mud. Guys that was decades ago. Can we change the subject to one that doesn't require everyone recalling near-death experiences?"

"What were you and Allison discussing before we got here?" Lydia asked, sly smile spreading across her face. Stiles dreaded that grin.

Pegging, Stiles thought. "Politics," he answered instead.

"Whatever you say, Peggy," Jackson laughed out.

"Oh my god, Jackson! Have you ever noticed how weirdly close _Peggy_ sounds to _pegging_?" Lydia asked, fake shock written on her face. Stiles didn't fail to notice the small upturn of the corners of Derek's mouth.

"Fuck my life!" Stiles squeaked out, burying his face in a pillow. "You guys are creeps! Seriously, how long did you stand outside my house, eavesdropping on private conversations?"

"Long enough to know that Danny and Mark aren't the only rainbow troops in Beacon Hills," Derek replied.

"Did you just call me a rainbow troop?" At Derek's sly grin, Stiles collapsed back on his bed. He'd officially entered the twilight zone.

"In return for you calling me a queen," Derek replied.

"Who? _How did you even find out about that?_ " Stiles asked. "Oh my god, someone kill me."

"I can't kill you, with you being the sheriff's son and what not, but I have the next best thing," Mark replied, reaching into his book bag.

"A lifelong coma?" Stiles asked.

"Jack Daniels," Mark said, pulling the amber liquid from his bag.

"My new best friend! Don't tell Scott!" Stiles grabbed at the bottle and took a swig. The burn in his throat felt better than the burning on his red cheeks.

"You plan on sharing?" Lydia asked, reaching for the bottle.

Stiles immediately pulled it out of her reach. "It's your fault I'm suicidal. Get your own."

"I brought two more bottles," Mark told her, tossing another bottle her way.

"Werewolves can't even get drunk," Jackson pointed out.

"He knows that," Danny smiled. "What else do you have in that bag that _does_ affect werewolves."

"And a little herbal," Mark continued.

"Cool!" Jackson responded, reaching for the bag of weed.

"No," Derek growled. He tore the bag from Jackson's fingers.

"It's Pineapple Express," Danny informed, shy smile on his lips.

"Just one," Derek corrected. The others watched as he rolled the first one quite quickly and easily with shock on their faces. "I was a teenager once."

"Dude, you're 22, not 30," Stiles replied grabbing a lighter. "I get first pull."

"No fair!" Lydia growled. "You got your own bottle."

"My house, my depression, my first dibs." Stiles took a long drag, and then passed it to Allison. She pulled off it a little too hard and ended up in a coughing fit. Derek slapped her on her back and took the joint from her fingers.

"It's gonna be a long night," Derek said, taking a pull.

 

*

 

Stiles had a totally _bitchin'_ dad. When the sheriff got home, he found the seven drunk, high teens in Stiles' bedroom, half the kitchen strewn across the floor. Lydia, Jackson, and Allison were tangled in a human knot on what appeared to be the good sheets and bed spreads, on the floor. Danny and Mark were lying wedged between the computer desk and the wall on the couch cushions. Stiles and who he was sure was Derek – even with his face buried in Stiles neck, it was apparent – were tangled up in the sheets on Stiles' bed. He shook his head, stepped over the tangled limbs, and closed the blinds. He scooped up the empty Jack Daniels bottles, chip bags, and Froot Loops boxes and threw them into the waste basket in the hall. Derek's head jerked up and his hair looked wild.

"Nugh gurlsh pumf?"

The sheriff took one look at the look on Derek's face as what were supposed to be words tumbled from the younger man's mouth and laughed. Derek looked thoroughly confused and slightly mortified. He went to get up, but the sheriff held up a hand. "Don't. You look comfy and you'll wake Stiles. I don't even want to begin to deal with that mess right now."

"Huysh Nargh shrumg."

The sheriff let out another chuckle as Derek stuck his tongue out and tried to get the feeling back in his tongue. "That'll wear off after you've gotten some more rest. Pineapple Express will do that to you. Oh yeah, I know," The sheriff said at Derek's look. "I'm going to bed. Clean this up before you leave. Oh and Derek? Thanks."

Yes. Stiles had one _bitchin'_ dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review and don't sugarcoat it.


	4. The Gayboy Sandwich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles get's caught in the middle of Danny and Mark.

Stiles' life in the past month had been the definition of bat-shit insane, freaky twilight zone. His best friend had moved away. Allison, of all people, had become the only thing anchoring him to the earth. Jackson and Lydia had become his personal chauffeurs. The pack, which had expanded by two, suddenly found it okay to come over to have awesome, but impromptu gatherings. And his dad turned out to be the epitome of _fucking awesome_.

After that whole social gathering, Stiles had pretty much expected the pack to disperse. For all its incredibleness, Stiles hadn't become attached to the idea of everything being okay. He saw it for what it was. An amazing night spent with the people that knew him well. But that was all that he saw it for.

Apparently, the tire slashing werewolf, _whoever the fuck it was_ , didn't get that memo.

Monday morning, he'd pulled himself out of the remains of a two day hangover, and gotten ready for another long, boring week of school. He didn't have Scott to pester and bug him about getting to school on time anymore, which sucked because he never realized how energized that got him. Allison, for all her fun-ness, was a stickler for anything academic related (birthday situation over looked because it was Scott, who had the persuasive skills of a puppy….no pun intended) and he seriously doubted she'd want to hang out before school.

Sighing in boredom induced frustration, Stiles grabbed his back pack and head towards his jeep. He gave it a once over and pulled himself up and over into the driver's seat. He'd been prepared to leave when he felt something weird. He got out and instinctively looked at the tires. Sure enough there were two gashes in each of the passenger side tires. They were leaking slowly, and relatively smaller given the size from the last few times.

" _Son-of-a_ ….. **COME ON!** " Stiles reared back to kick the jeep, before remembering that it wasn't her fault that werewolves were insensitive, vandalizing heathens who held no regard for his personal property.

He wasn't sure if he should rant or cry pathetically. His dad was going to kill him. He exhaled slowly and turned just in time to see Danny and Mark pull up.

"Need a ride?" Danny asked, that stupidly sweet grin on his face.

As much as Stiles wanted to hate him, Danny was utterly unhateable. However, it didn't go unnoticed by Stiles that every time his tires were flattened, someone from the "pack" was there to help out. He glared at Danny when he raised an eyebrow and unlocked the back door. Danny was like the only one out of the pack- not including himself because he didn't think of himself as pack- that didn't drive some ridiculously nice car. It wasn't Jackson's Porsche or Lydia's BMW, but it did have air in all the tires and thus was in better shape than his jeep. He grunted, yanking open the jeep door and pulling his book bag out, before sliding in the backseat of Danny's Toyota. He was still pissed, but riding in the backseat while Danny and Mark sucked face at every single light and stop sign was still better than walking. _Slightly_.

 

*

 

Allison was waiting for him at his locker after first period. She waited calmly as he jammed all his books into the given space before slamming the door closed.

"I don't suppose you want to give me a ride home after school," he asked with a grunt, walking towards their shared math class.

"Where's your jeep?" Allison asked. He didn't fail to notice that she didn't answer the question.

"Currently parked in my driveway, where it has been permanently as of late," Stiles answered, scowling.

"Again?" she inquired. "huh."

"Huh? _Huh?_ All you can say is _huh?_ They're out to kill my baby!" Stiles exclaimed, ignoring the looks he got in return. "It's sickening."

"What's got you in a crappy mood?" Lydia asked, joining them as they sat down.

"Oh, like you don't know! I know how you pretty types are. You're the ones who enforce the trust aspect, luring me into a false sense of security. Then BAM! You and your circle of criminals attack my baby!" Stiles explained, pout firmly in place.

"Someone slashed his tires. He rode here with Danny and Mark," Allison explained. Stiles wasn't surprised by Lydia's seemingly surprised face. She was a great actress. He turned in his seat and purposely ignored her and Allison's quiet giggles as he continued to glare pitifully at the board.

*Stiles sat down at their usual table during lunch and looked pointedly at Jackson. He ignored Allison's foot kicking at him under the table and continued to bore into Jackson's skull. "Is there a reason why you're looking at me like I killed your baby?" Jackson asked after another minute or so of intense glaring.

"Funny you should say that," Stiles shot back without missing a beat.

"What the hell is your problem Stilinksi?"

"Someone slashed his tires. He rode here with Danny and Mark," Allison answered. "I'm getting tired of having to repeat that."

"Don't tell me you think _I_ slashed your tires," Jackson replied incredulously, eyebrows risen up to meet in the center of his forehead.

"Are you confessing?" Stiles asked, not breaking eye contact. Jackson didn't scare him, never really did. And he was sadly mistaken if he thought that whole "I'm a werewolf, hear me roar" thing was going to make him pissed his pants. He rode to school with _Danny and Mark_ , who were worse with PDA than Scott and Allison used to be.

"I didn't do it. I wouldn't touch that piece of shit with _your_ hand, let alone my own!"

"Take that back!" Stiles shouted, insulted.

"Whatever. I didn't spend a perfectly good Saturday night hanging out with _you_ just so you could accuse me of doing childish crap like that." Stiles watched, taken aback by the angry and, dare he say, hurt tone of voice Jackson spoke with as he left the lunchroom.

"What's his problem?" Lydia asked, sitting down next to Allison. She followed Jackson's angry exit with her eyes, before rolling them. She shook her head and turned to everyone else. "Is it that time of the month?"

"Stiles hurt his feelings," Danny informed, stealing a fry of Stiles' plate. He narrowly missed the fork that shot out as defense. "He's sulking because he wants Stiles to like him. Stile's is really mean today."

"He has to _have_ feelings before I could hurt them. If anything, I may have bruised his over-inflated ego," Stiles defended himself. It was _Jackson_. Jackson was naturally an asshole to everyone, but couldn't stand a little payback? Was he supposed to feel sorry for him all of a sudden? And it wasn't like Stiles had threatened to press charges- he'd need to have proof to do that- like he should be doing. Jackson, the big drama queen that he was, was just looking for attention. _He's a dick,_ Stiles thought to himself as he chatted idly with Allison. That didn't stop him from apologizing to Jackson later on in Biology. He ignored the fact that he was able to breathe easier when Jackson flashed a crooked grin.

*When the end of the day rolled around, Stiles didn't fail to notice that Allison had just _magically_ disappeared into the sunset. He frantically looked around for a familiar face, anyone who would take pity on him and drop him off at least within walking distance of his house. His search grew in urgency when he spotted Mark jogging over to him. _I'm invisible_ , he thought when his search came up short, and they can't see me. _He isn't looking at me, he's looking through me. Please god, let him be looking through me. Wait, if he walks through me does that count as penetration? Oh god, let him see me! I don't want to have sex with Danny's boyfriend_.

"Stiles!" Mark shouted, stopping a few feet in front of him. He looked at him a little strangely when Stiles let out a sigh of relief, but continued. "Need a ride back?"

"Ummmmmm, no. Allison's giving me a lift. She's probably waiting for me right now so," Stiles rambled before trailing off.

"She told us that she couldn't," Mark explained "Come on, it's no big deal."

Stiles inwardly cursed Allison's ditching skills and Mark's powerful persuasion skills as he got in the back seat. Once again he was forced to endure a live performance of "Make Stiles Sick" starring Danny and Mark and their _tongues_. He resisted the urge to fall out the car and kiss the ground when they finally, finally made it to his house.

"So this has been awesome. Not awkward in the least. And you're both getting out the car…" Stiles watched with horror as Mark and Danny got out the car and came towards him with open arms. _Oh my god,_ he thought. _I'm the meat in a gayboy sandwich._ It was the most awkward hug he'd ever gotten and it lasted a good 6 seconds longer than he felt was friend appropriate. When it was over, Danny and Mark both started towards Danny's car as tough they hadn't just had their arms wrapped around him in a hugging orgy.

"Wait," Stiles called out, a thought suddenly popping up in his head. "Does this mean I'm attractive to gay guys?" Danny and Mark ignored him in favor of driving off.

 

*

 

Later that night Stiles laid on his bed staring at the ceiling. He'd talked to Scott, who was no help at all and laughed insanely hard at his misery. After saying goodbye, he thought over the invents of the day and made a mental checklist:

1\. There were at least two werewolves slashing his tires; a bigger one and a smaller one

2\. Lydia was an awesome actress

3\. Jackson was a diva and apparently had feelings that could be hurt.

4\. Allison sucked as a friend and had ditched him in favor of doing god knows what

5\. Mark and Danny were too comfortable with ignoring one's personal space

6\. He still didn't know if he was attractive to gay guys.

Just when he thought his life couldn't go any higher on the _This Is Fucking Weird_ scale. Reality was a bitch…

* * *


	5. The Slut Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is pretty sure his neighbors thinks he's a prostitute.

Stiles lived in a part of what people called Beacon Hills history. He lived in the heart of Beacon Hills, smack in the middle of it. The oldest, most sturdy roots existed within his neighborhood, the newer and richer ones branching outwards. Outside of the late Hale's, all of the oldest blood lived in his district. With that being said, Stiles was the youngest kid in Lincoln Crest. His two neighbors where in their late eighties, widowed, and had never set foot outside of the Beacon Hills city limits.

All of these things considered, Stiles was _pretty_ sure that his neighbors thought he was a prostitute. He couldn't really say that he could blame them for their assumptions. For the past month he'd been getting a ride to school in classy cars, cars that teens shouldn't be driving. Mrs. Daphne, the old gossip she was, was surely telling everyone. He hadn't really paid much attention to it at first. His neighbors were quiet and reserved. He, himself, was a pretty good kid, all things considered. And he was the sheriff's son. But this last week had opened his eyes.

It started Monday. Stiles _still_ hadn't gotten his tires fixed. His dad flat out refused to help him because _he_ flat out refused to disclose any information about who it could possibly be. Stiles couldn't afford to fix the on his own. For all her awesomeness, even Lydia couldn't convince his old bat of a boss to give him his job back. So his baby just continued to sit lazily on the concrete driveway and he continued to bum rides with whoever felt gracious enough to have him, usually Allison.

 

*

 

Monday was different. Danny and Mark were pulling up in front of his house right as he was exited. He exhaled harshly and looked around exasperatedly. He _really_ didn't want to experience another ride in the happy cab, but it looked as if he didn't have much of a choice. He thought he saw the curtains open, Mrs. Daphne's wrinkled face peering out, but paid it no attention.

He couldn't help but let out a whistle in appreciation, because the last time he'd rode with Danny and Mark, it had been in Danny's 2000 Toyota. Danny may have had a sensible ride, but Mark _did not_. Instead, Mark drove a shiny charcoal gray Audi R8 GT. He stopped to appreciate the fine piece of machinery before making his way, albeit reluctantly still, to the passenger side. He was surprised to see Danny in the back, but slid into the front seat regardless, his door had barely closed before Mark was barreling down the street.

After school, when they dropped him off, they once again exited the car to wrap around him in a big gay hug. He was certain that Mrs. Daphne had been spying on him, and would have waved at her if he'd had access to his arms. After another inappropriately long hug from Mark and Danny, they hopped in the car and left him standing dumbfounded on his porch. He had to wait a minute before the feeling returned to his arms. By then Mrs. Daphne was nowhere to be found, and he found himself aching to get to his computer to Google _"how to know if gay guys find you attractive."_

*

 

Tuesday was Lydia's turn. Stiles thought that it would be Allison; she'd promised him a ride. Allison's word seemed to be going down the drain as of late. He slowly made his way to Lydia's 650i, admiring the glossy red paint along the way. At her intense glare due to his slow pace, he turned his head. Once again he thought he saw Mrs. Daphne's gray eyes in her window, watching him. He would have stopped to investigate in full, but Lydia revved the engine in warning and all thoughts but getting in the car on time flew from his mind.

Lydia drove him home after school, a creepy smile on her face that had Stiles tripping out of the car by the time they reached his street. He expected her to leave immediately, but Lydia was never as predictable as people wanted her to be. She put the BMW in park and stalked towards Stiles, unwavering look on her face. Stiles instinctively put his hands up over his face as protection. He yelped in surprise when he felt her arms wrap around his middle.

"What?" he muttered, peeking through his fingers down and the red head.

Lydia's response was to tighten her grip. She hugged him for a while, nuzzling her face into his chest, and didn't let up until Stile's returned the affectionate gesture. Lydia let him go a second later, turned her head towards Mrs. Daphne's prying eyes in her window and smiled. Then she swiveled around on her heel and practically tore the cement up with her determined walk back to her car. Stiles watched in astonishment as she disappeared. He turned to wave at Mrs. Daphne, but dropped his hand when he saw her disapproving look. He quickly ducked his head and found safety in his living room.

 

*

 

By Wednesday he'd made up his mind that this was absolutely ridiculous. Jackson's Porsche was parked in front of his house a whole hour early. And Jackson was at his front door, perfected puppy look on his face. Stiles took one look at his face and stepped aside to let him in.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked, making his way into the kitchen to finish his breakfast.

"I'm your ride to school," Jackson replied and Stiles got the distinctive feeling that he was thinking a resounding ' _duh'_ in that obnoxious skull.

"Well of course. It must be your turn then. Are you the official Wednesday guy?" Stiles asked, shoving a spoon full of Trix in his mouth.

"Yeah." That was all Jackson gave as a response and took it upon himself to grab one of Stiles' bananas off the table.

"Why Wednesday? You couldn't do a cooler day?"

"I like Wednesday. Its hump day," Jackson said with a cunning smirk. Stiles stood up quickly, choking on the contents in his mouth. Jackson slapped him on his back a couple of times, smirk still in place.

"Did you just make a joke?" Stiles asked incredulously. "You know, you're the only one who's actually talked to me." He quickly finished the last of his cereal standing, before downing the left over milk.

"Maybe they don't see how awesome you are," Jackson offers, arms crossed over his chest. As far as Stiles could tell, he wasn't being mean.

"You're not as douchey today," Stiles hummed. "You're kinda cute when you aren't being a dick." He turned to put the bowl in the sink. He gasped when Jackson pressed up close behind him, arms on either side of him. He could feel the warmth of Jackson's breath on the back of his neck and it was doing weird things to him.

"Is that an invitation?" Jackson whispered, mouth close to Stiles' ear. He moved his arms down to  
Stiles' waist. "Well?" he asked, turning Stiles around.

"I…um…what?" Stiles asked, completely confused by the turn of events.

"Never mind. School awaits." Jackson let go of his hips and turned away, leaving out of the kitchen.

"Wait, that's it?" Stiles asked, trailing behind Jackson, locking the door behind them as they stepped out on the porch. He turned and Jackson was right there in his space. "Woah."

"Do you want that to be it?" he asked, blue eyes staring into Stiles' brown ones.

"I don't know! I didn't even know you were gay! _Are_ _you_ _gay?_ I'm getting punk'd right? Okay guys you can come out now. The gigs up."

"You are an idiot," Jackson answered, pulling Stiles to the car. "Get in." They didn't talk about it anymore that day and Allison gave him a ride home.

 

*

 

Thursday morning Jackson was back. Stiles walked up to him carefully, slowly. Jackson was standing outside the car, leaning against it casually. Stiles noted that he looked nervous. Stiles stood next to him, waving at Mrs. Daphne as she watered her garden. She ignored him.

"I thought you guys only got one day," Stiles replied after a while.

"Are you the official referee now? I didn't get to drive you home. Plus you said that I should have a cooler day."

"And you thought Thursday was better?" Stiles asked, eyebrows raised. He smiled at Jackson's blush.

"I actually thought that you deserved an apology. I was….cryptic yesterday."

"You think?" Stiles asked, making a face.

"This isn't easy okay! Opening up, in case you hadn't noticed, it's not really my thing. I do whatever the hell I want and people accept it. I don't have to explain myself."

"Then why are you telling me?" Stiles asked calmly.

"Because I don't care what other people think. They don't matter. But for some stupid reason, you do. You matter."

"Bullshit!" Stiles replied.

"What?" Jackson's indifferent mask slipped back into place.

"You do care what people think of you Jackson. That's why you push yourself so hard. And for whatever reason you've decided that I matter all of a sudden?" Stiles turned to look at Jackson, ignoring the scowl.

"So maybe I had it backwards. I do care what people think. But I don't have to care with you because you don't." Jackson sighed. "Anyway, yesterday was a mistake. I was confusing feelings of compassion with romance. It doesn't help that he smelled you all over me and kicked my ass."

"Oh my god! Who? Are you okay?" Stiles asked frantically. Jackson was still possible the words biggest asshole, but he was a friend…he thinks.

" _Moses_. Who do you think genius? Derek's like crazy possessive of you." Stiles really needed to rethink his definition of friend.

"Derek? Really?" Stiles wasn't sure if he should be upset or weirdly flattered.

"Don't make those goo-goo lover eyes around me! Anyway I've said too much. We need to get going." Jackson was obviously not gonna answer any more questions.

"I'm actually gonna skip school today," Stiles stated matter-of-factly. Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Cause your dad won't kill you."

"Okay so I have a doctor's appointment. Rain check?" Stiles asked, offering his hand to Jackson.

"Yeah whatever. But not tomorrow. I have plans." Jackson grabbed Stiles' hand, but held on to it.

"Figures you would have plans on the cool day," Stiles snorted. Jackson was still holding on to his hand. "You've been weirdly affectionate and touchy," Stiles pointed out, lifting their joined hands.

"You said that everyone else has been hugging you," Jackson shrugged. "I decided to join in on the freak orgy."

"Hugging and pinning me against counters are two different things," Stiles pointed out, absently stroking his fingers over a small scar on Jackson's knuckles. He huffed when he found himself suddenly trapped between Jackson and his car.

"Is this better?" Jackson asked.

"You don't seem to know what a hug is," Stiles replied. "And I think you've been around Derek too long. This is the second time you've slammed me against something."

"I know what hugs are. But I go above and beyond everyone else. Plus I kinda want to piss Derek off some more. He can always tell when I've done something I wasn't suppose to."

"So what you're saying is," Stiles started. "that you're only do this because you want to be your usual rebel self and go against Derek?"

"Yeah, I guess," Jackson answered. He still hadn't let Stiles go.

"Why don't you just go back to your regular "I am above Stiles" routine. It's a lot less confusing."

"I'd love to be above you Stiles, but I fear what would happen as result." Jackson laughed at the deep red blush that blossomed over Stiles' face. "You are such a virgin."

"I'd appreciate it if we didn't discuss my awesome, action packed love life," Stiles pouted. "I wish the old Jackson would make a comeback. He's much easier to read."

"The old Jackson was horrible to you," Jackson pointed out.

"But he didn't molest me in front of the neighbors," Stiles said in response. "Mrs. Daphne has been giving me the stink eye since you got here."

"Then let's give her a reason to sneer."

Stiles didn't have time to think before Jackson's lips covered his own. It was awkward and weird and possibly the worst kiss he'd ever received. When Jackson pulled away, Stiles stood there, quiet, trying to figure out what this could possibly mean.

"Don't try to make this into a big deal. It doesn't mean anything," Jackson said, stepping back. He had an almost comical grimace on his face.

"So you always kiss people you don't care about?" Stiles asked. This was getting really weird really quick.

"It doesn't _mean_ anything. Don't over think it. I'm not doing this because I'm secretly in love with you."

"Then why are you doing this?" Stiles asked frowning. "Does this have anything to do with Derek?"

"I'm not allowed to say anything," Jackson stated plainly.

"I _really_ don't like this new you. You're weird and cryptic and romantic without the romance," Stiles flailed.

"That doesn't even… Don't worry; this Jackson won't last for much longer. It sucks being caring and opening up. Danny usually just distracts me. You actually want to talk about stuff."

"How terrible! Next thing you know, I'll actually know things about you," Stiles retorted.

Jackson grunted and wrapped his arms around him in another awkward hug. "I thought you didn't do hugs."

"Get off my car." Stiles couldn't help the stupid smirk that was on his face as Jackson sped off.

"You sure have a bunch of…. _friends_. Shame you father never seems to get to meet them. Have to wonder what a hardworking man like your father would feel about his teenage son being so friendly."

Stiles smiled grimly and walked back up the walk way. "You have a good day Mrs. Daphne."

 

*

 

For some reason, Stiles' naïve heart felt like things couldn't have gotten any weirder. Oh how wrong was he. For a week Lydia, Danny ad Mark, and Jackson had been driving him to school. Jackson had actually been intimate with him; he was still trying to figure that mess out. He was pretty sure that Mrs. Daphne had insinuated that he was a personal escort yesterday. And if that wasn't enough to make Stiles feel absolutely whorish, Derek's shiny black Camaro being parked in front of his house Friday morning was the icing on the slut cake. He could only imagine the things Mrs. Daphne must have been thinking.

Derek was older, old enough to get in at least a little trouble if anyone started accusing him of things. And he had a history of being the bad guy. It didn't help that Derek was a steaming pile of take-me-now. Stiles practically sprinted to Derek's car and prayed that Mrs. Daphne hadn't seen him. Luck was not on his side.

~School~

"My neighbors think I'm a trollop," Stiles told Allison as they walked to first period together.

"Your conversation starters get odder and odder," Allison replied smiling at him in spite of his greeting.

"Sorry, it's just that Derek came and picked me up this morning."

"Oh the horror!" Lydia said, tuning into the conversation as they took their seats. Stiles ignored her.

"Can you start from the beginning?" Allison asked.

Lydia turned around to face Stiles. "And make it quick. I'd like for this not to be the topic of discussion at lunch."

"Long story short; Lydia, Mark and Danny have been giving me a ride to and from school. Well with the exception of Jackson, who only gave me a ride to school and tried to give me a ride the next morning but I had an appointment. Anyway first it was the cuddle monsters with their flashy Audi and tight hug sandwiches. Then Lydia with her killer, ninja bear hugs and red BMW. And then Jackson with his speed-demon Porsche and his new habit of pinning me against things and kissing me in front of my house. And every time you guys are around, Mrs. Daphne is too. So everything you guys do kinda looks like you're thanking me for my _services_. And then Derek showed up this morning and there is no way that she doesn't think I'm a hooker!" Stiles gushed out. He caught his breath and watched what he'd said sink in.

"Jackson kissed you?" Lydia and Allison asked at the same time.

"Is that all you got out of that?" Stiles questioned, blush settling on his cheeks.

"That's the part that sticks out the most. What kind of kiss was it?" Lydia demanded.

"Are you sure that the two of you are over? Because I don't want to be the reason why it doesn't work out. I'm not fit to be the other guy," Stiles held his hands up in defense.

"Does Derek know any of this?" Allison asked, looking back and forth between Lydia and Stiles.

"Of course not! Jackson's still breathing isn't he?" Lydia replied nonchalantly.

"I didn't think that I should have mentioned it. Derek was, strangely enough, in a great mood this morning. Besides, Jackson and I talked it out," Stiles stated. He really hoped that this would be the end of the issue. He couldn't help but feel like vital pieces of this puzzle were missing, and it seemed that everyone, even Allison, saw the bigger picture.

 

*

 

School pasted with not much of a problem. Jackson had returned to his normal self, which was both refreshing and crappy. Lydia and Allison didn't say anything else that could have clued him in on what was going on. Derek was waiting outside, the sun glaring against the suave black paint. Stiles hurried over to the car, trying to draw as little attention as possible. It was a hard feat. Derek had the only Camaro within Beacon Hills' city limits and he, himself, grabbed a lot of attention without the car. Stiles hoped in, throwing his bag in the back seat.

"Drive," he commanded. He'd expected Derek to argue, had been prepared for an all-out stare off, but Derek through the car in drive and peeled off with as much tact as Stiles could have ever hoped from him.

The drive was relatively quiet, save for the radio. Derek was doing the speed limit, a big deal considering his track record, with the windows rolled down, shades over his eyes. Stiles stared in awe at the picture in front of him. Derek looked, _dare he say it_ , normal. He was drumming his thumb ever so lightly against the steering wheel to match the rhythm blaring softly from the radio. Stiles could swear that every now and then Derek would mouth a few of the words.

"It figures that you'd like The Black Keys," Stiles says after a while. Derek just hums in response, lips turning up at the corners not even a quarter of a centimeter. "What's your favorite album?"

He answered so much later that Stiles wasn't sure that he would at all. "Of all time or just by them?"

"I meant by them. But I'd love to know the answer to both," Stiles replied honestly.

"Their first album, _The Big Come Up_ ," Derek answered. He continued at Stiles' raised eyebrows. "It was only 13 songs; five were covers and it didn't even sell well, but I remembered hearing it and slipping into an almost nostalgic trance."

"And favorite album of all time?" Stiles inquired.

"The White Album," was the simple reply that Derek gave.

"You like The Beatles?"

"Who doesn't like The Beatles. They paved the road for rock. If you disagree I'll push out of this still moving car," Derek threatened.

Stiles held up his hands in surrender. "You'll get no argument from me." He spent the rest of the ride listening to Derek hum the lyrics to _Gold on the Ceiling_.

*When they pulled up in the front of his house the first thing he noticed was that his jeep was no longer sitting in the driveway. Instead it was parked along the curb. Stiles jumped out of the Camaro before Derek had even killed the engine, and was inspecting the car in no time. There were new tires, all four of them, a tidy red bow on each one of them.

"Oh my god!" Stiles screeched in excitement.

After the enthusiasm wore off and he was able to think clearly again, he turned to Derek. He was standing outside of the car, lean body resting against the hood of his car. Stiles couldn't help but marvel at how amazing he looked; his tanned, sun-kissed skin blended well with the black paint of the Camaro. His hair was disheveled, more than normal, from riding with the windows down. With his sunglasses on and the dark colors of his clothes, he looked more like a model posing for an ad than Stiles' personal chauffeur for the day. He looked good, damn good, and Stiles felt the familiar urge to lick a line down to throat to his navel and lower.

"Did you do this?" Stiles asked, slowly making his way over to stand in front of Derek. He was aware that Mrs. Daphne was coming out to stand on her porch.

"You don't think your dad did it?" Derek asked, shifting slightly. Stiles watched the way his muscles moved with his arms.

"He made it pretty clear that I wouldn't be getting new tires unless he heard good news at the next parent teacher conference or I paid for it myself. And no one else would do this for me." Stiles continued his slow stalk towards Derek. He wasn't sure what this was; wasn't sure where the boost of confidence came from. But he wasn't going to waste it when everything he wanted was in front of him.

"Are you sure Jackson wouldn't do it? You two seem so close lately." Derek spread his legs a little to make room for Stiles, but didn't move other than that.

"We are just friends. No romantic feelings involved whatsoever. And I'm pretty sure that kiss was just to spite you." Stiles stepped into Derek's opened legs, wrapped his arms around his waist.

"He kissed you?" Derek probed. His arms were still perfectly still on the hood. Stiles loved that about him, loved the sheer amount of control that was Derek Hale.

"Yes, but you can erase it if you'd like," Stiles offered, looking up at Derek through his eyelashes.

"Are you even attracted to me? Or is this just a symptom of being insanely happy that you have your jeep back?" Derek inquired. Stiles reached up and slid the sunglasses off his face, fingers lingering over those cheekbones.

"I'm attracted to you Derek. _God_ , am I attracted to you. But up until Scott moved away you were just a fantasy that got me through a stressful night. You seemed to hate me and I wasn't even out to anyone other than Scott. Derek I'm not one to chase things that seem unreachable. Well besides Lydia, but that was more of a cover than an expedition."

"Then what makes now any different?" Derek asked, his eyes slipping closed under Stiles' gentle touched.

"I don't chase things that seem unreachable-"

"You've said that before," Derek interrupted. Stiles smiled at him.

"But you're right here in front of me and I do chase what I know I can grasp," Stiles continued. He stepped at way, letting his fingers fall down and over Derek's chest. "My dad is the hardest working man in this town. Lord knows his son gets so lonely in this house alone."

"So if I come in?" Derek asked, muscles flexing under Stiles' hands

"You'd be a good Samarian," Stiles answers. He lifts his hand and waits patiently until Derek finally lifts a hand and places it in Stiles'. Stiles drags him inside, winking at Mrs. Daphne on the way in.

Once they're in the living room, all restraint leaves and Stiles finds himself being slammed against the wall. Derek's body is immediately pressed against him, his lips not far after. Stiles is greedy, and empty like a dry sponge soaking up as much as he can hold without wasting a drop. His hands mapped slow trails over every plane and slope of Derek's body. He let out a desperate groan when Derek pulled away.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Derek asked, eyes searching for any sign that Stiles wasn't sure.

"I'm not exactly screaming 'no' and 'stop'," Stiles pointed out. He pulled on Derek's shoulders and tried to get him to reconnect his body to Stiles. Derek pulled Stiles away from the wall and up towards the stares. Stiles followed wordlessly, afraid that if he said anything, Derek would break out of whatever was letting him do this. That didn't stop his brain from chanting _yes, yes, yes, yes, yes._

Once they were Stiles' room, he took over, pushing Derek down on his bed and straddling his hips. He latched on to Derek's mouth and groaned happily. Derek's hands found his hips and moved them in a sudden jerk.

"Fuck!" Stiles hissed, repeating the rolling motion.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Derek gritted out. He held Stiles still while they caught their breath.

"What? Why?" Stiles asked frantically. His entire body was humming, thrumming in tune with Derek's.

"You don't think this is too fast?" Derek asked incredulously.

"No! In fact I think we're making up for all the time we wasted pretending that the attraction wasn't there." Stiles found a particular vein in Derek's neck to hold his attention while what he said sunk in.

"Huh," Derek stated simply. Stiles pulled back and looked at him.

"I'm sitting in your lap, practically begging you to devirginize me and all you say is ' _huh'_? What is it with my friends answering serious scenarios with 'huh'?" Stiles asked. He watched a strange look spread over Derek's face. It wasn't a bad strange, just strange. "What?"

"We're friends?" Derek asked.

" _Oh_ _come_ _on!_ What is with you werewolves being so out of character lately? You're really pulling the sensitive werewolf card right now?" At Derek's blank look, Stiles sighed and answered. "I let you and your pack of weirdoes smoke weed in my dad's, the _sheriff_ , house. I rode to school and back with you. You bought me new tires and people who aren't friends don't do that. Hell, friends don't usually do that."

"It's just….I figured you'd have more restraint than you do."

"Why would you think that?" Stiles asked, frown set deep on in his face.

"Because you're Stiles; sweet, innocent, sheriff's son." Stiles looked at Derek and burst into incredulous laughter.

"I'm a teenager genius! I seize opportunities and think of the consequences later if I get caught. And you're the hot guy that I've been secretly pining after. I'm not going to stop and beg you for a wedding ring. I'm going to hump now and think about feelings and emotions later. Plus that whole sheriff's kid thing is like the biggest cliché, right after the preacher's kid."

"I….don't know how to answer that," Derek admitted.

"You can answer it with a ' _voila'_ , because you've magically made the mood disappear with all your talk about my dad." Derek didn't look all that apologetic and Stiles frowned. "Was that your plan the whole time? Distract me and stomp out my arousal? 'Cause I gotta tell you, that's foul. You're not getting off that easy though. If my neighbors think I'm a whore, I can at least get some pleasure out of it."

"What?" Derek asked.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you about it after we finish cashing out my v-card."

*It wasn't until much later, after a long night of passionate kisses and refractory periods*, that Stiles thought to punch Derek in the ribs.

"What the fuck?" He growled out, being jarred awake by the sudden attack.

"I just remembered that you wouldn't have had to buy new tires if you hadn't slashed them in the first place."

"What are you talking about? I didn't slash your tires," Derek defended, grimacing as the bruise on his ribcage healed.

"What?" Stiles asked, dumbfounded.

"I didn't do it," Derek repeated slowly. Stiles frowned and rubbed his hand over the now painless spot he'd punched.

"Huh," At Derek's dark look he gave a sly grin. "You can get your revenge with round 4."


	6. The Truth Comes Out

"What is upward?" Stiles asked, twirling around in his computer chair to face the computer screen.

"Someone's in a great mood," Scott responded, eyebrows raised.

"Um, yeah! It's Saturday. You're coming to visit for the summer. My dad's got a super-hot girlfriend. And I have myself a smoking hot boyfriend."

"I can't believe you and Derek have been seeing each other exclusively," Scott admitted, sly smirk spreading across his face.

"You can't believe it? I can't believe it! I can't believe Jackson and I are good friends. And who would have thought that the pack would be as amazing as they are. Speaking of pack….when do we get to meet this new girl you've got hidden away?"

"Her name is Jessica. This girl is perfect Stiles. She cooks, she can play MW3, my mom loves her, and she doesn't come from a family of psychotic werewolf hunters!"

"She sounds amazing. I can't wait to meet her," Stiles replied honestly. "How are things with your step-dad?"

"Pretty good actually. He's great. Plus he's pretty cool with the werewolf thing. He's even teaching me some wicked cool meditation techniques."

"I guess Florida ended up being great for you after all." Stiles was happy that Scott had finally found his happy ending. And yeah it sucked that he found it across the country where Stiles couldn't be there with him physically, but at least he did get to be there.

"Hey, how are those new tires working out for you by the way?" Scott asked suddenly.

"They're great…How did you know about that?" Stiles asked, frowning in confusion. "I never told you about Derek getting me tires."

"You still haven't figured it out?"

"Well obviously not. I wouldn't be asking otherwise," Stiles said, giving Scott his best "duh" voice.

"I thought I was supposed to be the dumb one. How haven't you figured it out?" Stiles really wasn't fond of this newly found genius that Scott had. At Stiles' blank face Scott continued. "You said yourself that Derek and the pack didn't do it, so who do you think was doing it?"

"Allison? Argent? Finstock? My dad?" At every possible bandit that Stiles called out, Scott shook his head, his grin growing over his face. "Who then?" Stiles asked, giving up.

"Deaton," Scott answered after a while. Stiles could only describe his grin as 'I ate the canary.' Stiles just sat there for a while, letting it sink in.

"You mean you had your ex-boss slash my tires?" Stiles asked slowly.

"I mean I had to have him do it. I knew you weren't going to keep in touch with the pack. I figured Derek wasn't going to man up and come after you then if he hadn't before." At that statement Scott grinned playfully and Stiles arched an eyebrow. He'd had no idea that Scott knew about Derek's affection beforehand. "I had to do something so I had Deaton to flatten your tires and make it look like someone out of the pack. Then I called Derek and filled him in on what was going on. He said he'd have the pack take care of you. And you know the rest."

"I can't believe you," Stiles replied after a few seconds.

"I did it for you," Scott defended immediately.

"I know, but that doesn't mean that I won't be getting you back for it. Or Deaton for that matter."

"Stiles- "

"I have to go Scott, but it was nice chatting with you. See you in a couple of weeks." Stiles ended the call and exited out of Skype. Once he'd shut down his laptop, he sat back with a sigh, placing his hands behind his head.

"Comfortable?" Stiles jumped, spinning around in his chair to face Derek. Said werewolf was leaning against his door, leather jacket laid out on his bed neatly.

"Yes, but apparently I'm not the only one." Derek did look rather relaxed, his shoes kicked off carelessly in the corner. He was wearing his favorite jeans, the ones that fit loosely on his hips. Stiles trailed his eyes back up Derek's chest, noting that Derek was in one of the tanks that he only wore under his shirts. Stiles spotted the aforementioned shirt thrown carelessly on the floor a little over from his shoes. "How long have you been here?" Stiles asked frowning.

"Around the time that Scott stated his shock at our coupling," Derek admitted, crossing over from the door to the bed. He picked the jacket up, checking over it as if any damage could have happened to it while it was on the bed.

"Coupling Derek? Your age is starting to show. Isn't 90° weather a little hot for that whole bad boy look?"

Derek snorted. "Don't be silly. It's never too hot for the bad boy look."

"You say that now, but what about when you pass out from heatstroke?" Stiles retorted.

"I came here to hang it in your closet. I don't exactly have a stable home at the moment. I figured hanging it in the back of your closet until I find an apartment is better than leaving it in the woods or in the subway."

"Are you sure you don't want to put it in a hole in the forest?" Stiles asked as Derek crossed over to the closet to put his jacket away. "I hear that's where all the canines bury their valuables."

"Funny," Derek retorted. "And here I was thinking it'd be safer with the stalker that kept my t-shirt in top condition for the better half of a year." Derek walked over to the bed and got comfortable. When he got situated, he patted the spot next to him. Stiles smiled slowly, standing up and making his way to the bed. Derek opened him with open arms.

"I was thinking," Stiles stated after a moment.

"That's never a good thing," Derek laughed, not even budging when Stiles pinched him.

"You knew the whole time that Deaton was the one slashing my tires," Stiles pointed out. Derek remained silent and Stiles took that as a confession. "Is that the reason you bought me new tires? Because you felt guilty?"

"I bought you new tires because I know how much your jeep means to you. Plus I figured we were done with that whole 'I'm running from my pack' thing. There wasn't a reason to force bonding time on you anymore." Stiles could respect the reasoning, but that didn't help the fact that Derek was also partly responsible for his car's misery. He figured that he'd let it slide for now and extract his revenge when they all least expected it. He let Derek wrap him up in his arms and shower him with kisses. But what he saw in his mind was Derek's Camaro sitting on four flat tires.

 

*

 

Deaton walked out into the parking lot of the vet building. It was unusually hot for so late. He only had a half hour before his assistant's shift started, but he needed food now if he was ever going to get through an all night shift. He was halfway in the car before something caught his eye. It was a post it note taped to the wind of the passenger side window. He got out slowly and walked around. He plucked it off the window and then looked around. The parking lot was empty save for himself. He frowned and read the note. He let the note fall and looked at his tires in shock. Both tires on the passenger side were flat. He circled back around to the driver's side, letting out a sigh of frustration. Those tires were flat as well.

"Well there goes food. This is what I get for being a good boss." Deaton walked back to the door and went in, stomach growling the whole way. The wind blew, the yellow post-it going with it.

'Just wanted to thank you for "keeping an eye on me." Enjoy your ride.'

Two days later Derek got a post-it of a similar variety. He let out a growl, taking his phone out to call Stiles. A text came through before he could call.

S: Don't bother calling me. I won't answer. Ur guilty by association. If u ever want a piece of this ass again, u'll let it go ;)

Derek sighed, and scrolled down his contact list.

"Hey Will. It's Derek. Yeah, I'm gonna need 4 new tires."

"Of course. Man I gotta say, the tire business has been booming lately."

**Author's Note:**

> Review and don't sugar coat it.


End file.
